School Clinic – Lunch Break
"So that's what happened," Fire said, sitting at the edge of the bed, her eyes on Oriel's wrapped ankle.
Oriel nodded, embarrassed.
"Where is he?" Fire looked around. It was odd to find Oriel alone.
"Disciplinary office," Oriel mumbled.
"What? Why?"
Oriel sighed. "He wasn't supposed to stay. We have class. But he refused to leave. The nurse eventually reported it."
Fire blinked. "Was it that bad?"
It was hard to explain. No one ever believed how Dhylan, the soft-hearted, happy-go-lucky clown, turned into a possessive storm cloud the second she was hurt.
The memory came flooding back.
"No, I won't go. I need to stay here," Dhylan had told the nurse firmly, his usual smile nowhere in sight.
"You need to attend your classes. I'll take care of her," the nurse replied calmly.
"I can talk to my professors later. They'll understand. I need to be here right now."
He sat beside her, unmoving.
"She'll be fine. I'll give her first aid," the nurse tried again, but Dhylan acted like he hadn't heard. He stayed beside Oriel without a word.
Oriel had just given the nurse an apologetic smile. She knew arguing would only escalate things. She'd done that before. It never helped.
She sighed.
Back to present
"Are you alright?" Fire asked gently.
"I hate when DJ acts like this. It's just a sprain." Oriel glanced at her ankle. It hardly hurts anymore.
"I think it's a normal reaction… for someone you love." Fire smirked.
Instantly, Oriel turned to her, eyes wide.
"I told you it was a misunderstanding," she pouted.
"You're really cute, Oriel." Fire pinched her cheek. "No wonder Dhylan likes you so much."
"Fire!" Oriel whined, cheeks red.
But like always, her protests didn't reach Fire—or Dhylan.
Fire watched Oriel's face turn red and nearly cackled. Seriously? She'd read enough love stories to know these kinds of moments were straight out of a romance novel. How could anyone miss this? Dhylan was basically waving a neon sign, practically shouting his feelings—loud and clear—and here was Oriel, trying to gaslight herself into thinking it was all in her head.
Girl, he confessed like three times a day.
But Fire held her tongue. This was Dhylan's problem to solve. Oriel wouldn't believe her anyway.
Besides, she thought smugly, I want front-row seats when she finally realizes.
Then something pulled her out of her thoughts.
"Hey, is it true you get kicked out after three violations?" Fire asked out of nowhere, fidgeting suddenly.
Oriel blinked. "Yeah… why?"
Fire looked rattled.
"I mean, yeah, it helps keep things in order, but it's not like you're—" Her voice trailed off as realization dawned. "Wait… you didn't…?"
Fire looked even guiltier.
"It was Ice! I was just running down the hall this morning," she blurted. "I thought he was joking! He looked serious, but… I didn't think—"
"Ice is the SSC president," Oriel said with a grimace. "He's strict. But maybe it's just a warning." She forced a reassuring smile. "Just be careful next time."
"No! He has to take it back!" Fire declared, jumping to her feet with her hands on her hips like a soldier accepting a mission.
Oriel chuckled. That's Fire. Once her mind's made up, nothing's stopping her.
Later That Night – Dormitory
"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Dhylan asked, lingering just outside the door, trying to sneak a glimpse inside.
Worry was written all over his face—so raw, it was almost painful for Oriel to look at. She hated how a small part of her was… glad. Glad to matter that much to him.
"Yes, yes! I'm fine!" she insisted, pushing the door against him to block his view.
The wooden door stood between them like a wall of two very different emotions.
"I can ask someone to stay with you. I'll call Fire."
"I'm okay, DJ! I promise I'll call you if I need anything." With one final push, she managed to close the door shut.
"Promise?" His voice came through softly—muffled by the door, but still clear enough. He stood on the other side, staring at the wood, imagining her struggling alone inside.
"Yes, I promise," Oriel replied, pressing her forehead against the door.
"…Okay." He gave in with a sigh, not wanting to push further. She might hurt herself again trying to keep him out.
She waited until she heard his footsteps fading down the hallway. Then she let out a deep breath and leaned back.
Thank God she didn't have a roommate. That would've made everything worse.
Her eyes dropped to her ankle. The pain had dulled to a throbbing ache—still there, but manageable. She limped toward the bed and flopped face-first into the sheets.
And that's when everything hit her.
The memory of his arms—warm and steady—as he carried her like a bride. The scent of his shirt. His face—close, too close—etched with worry.
She squeezed her eyes shut. His expression had terrified her. Like he'd been afraid of losing her.
This is wrong. So, so wrong.
He's my best friend. Just my best friend. We've been like this forever. Since we were kids.
She groaned into the pillow. "Acting all sweet just because of that stupid couple contest… it's unfair." Her voice was muffled but bitter.
Why did I even agree to that?
But the contest had ended years ago. Dhylan hadn't stopped. That behavior—the teasing, the care, the constant attention—had turned into a habit. His habit.
Her gaze landed on the nightstand. A photo frame stared back at her. The two of them, grinning, arms around each other. The photo. The one that won them the couple contest.
She remembered everything. How the prize had gone to her. How Dhylan had made sure of it—because he knew she needed the money. And because he also knew she'd never accept it from him directly.
"They look like a real couple," people had said.
She forced a smile. "He probably wasn't affected by it. He's always like that. Always playful."
Maybe it was her fault—for taking it too seriously.
And then the memories came crashing in.
'My Ori,' he'd call out while waving across the hall.
'My Ori,' he'd whine dramatically when she kicked him for teasing her.
'My Ori!'—beckoning her over for food.
'My Ori'—smiling, giving her a thumbs up, cheering her on like she was the only one in the world.
A thousand versions of him, wrapped around that same stupid phrase. My Ori.
"Aaaaagh!" Oriel screamed into the pillow, her voice muffled and miserable. She slammed her fist into the mattress. She didn't want to remember—but her heart wouldn't let her forget.
And the memories just kept coming.